


syrup & coffee

by princessprouvaire



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, April Fools' Day, Breakfast, Drabble, Fluff, John Silver is a Little Shit, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 22:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11678487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessprouvaire/pseuds/princessprouvaire
Summary: A little drabble about cute mornings, and pranks.





	syrup & coffee

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr also! :) http://princessprouvaire.tumblr.com/post/163688657566/so-anyway-i-saw-this-tweet-and-thought-of

He refused to open his eyes on principle, at first.  _Somebody_ , not him, had opened the curtains early enough that the sunlight that streamed through the window had warmed the pale sheets and the skin peeking out from the top of them, creating a comforting safe harbor in which he wanted to hide himself away for the rest of the day.

The first fully conscious thought he had was that the  _somebody_  who had first opened those curtains would have had to have left their bed to do so, and so he blindly shot out a hand to his side, feeling only rumpled material and the faintest trace of body heat. This was when he first chose to open a singular eye, just to make sure he hadn’t missed John by some miracle, as if he’d somehow been able to remain on the edge of the bed, an invisible presence as he had felt his way across the sheets.

Life returned to him little by little, and he reached for his phone to check the time. Still too bloody early for a weekend, but the protesting sun was already high in the sky. He shifted out of bed and into pyjama bottoms and his pair of slippers, rolling his shoulders as he moved. He could smell something cooking, but couldn’t quite discern what John was making. He padded down the hallway, making his way towards John and whatever it was he was concocting.

The man was stood in front of the oven carefully watching his food, something sweet-smelling, as it sizzled away in the pan. His tanned back was facing James, dark curls loosely piled on top of his head, and James followed the dip of his back with his eyes to where it met the waistband of a pair of pyjamas he was sure once belonged to him, a long time ago.

“Sleep alright?” John asked without turning to look at James, having heard his slippers tap against the wood in the hallway. He ambled over to him, hooking his chin over his shoulder to observe his cooking. Two slices of French toast, smelling delicious with what James knew to be John’s personal preferred blend of spices, were almost perfectly browned.

“Mhmm. Why’d you get up so early?” he said, burying his face into his jaw and gently kissing the scruff there.

“Early?  _I_ was up at nine, I wouldn’t consider that early.” John laughed, leaning into the kiss as he tried to concentrate on the pan. “Sometimes in civilised society, we wake up early on a weekend to get things done, you see.”

“Uh huh. Fuck civilised society.” James yawned, wrapping his arms around John’s firm waist.

“Wouldn’t get comfy, if I were you, these are almost ready. Go sit down, I’ll make you some coffee too. Go on.”

He reluctantly let go of John, going to sit at their high breakfast bar. He opened his phone again, scrolling through news articles with a frown.

“Everything is bullshit.” he stated when John came over with his plate of toast and a bottle of syrup. He stopped short, eyebrows furrowing at James.

“Beg your pardon?” he asked, confused.

“All…this.” James said, waving his phone around before putting it down on the table. “Everything is bloody ridiculous. They’re sending a team of lizards, in a rocket, to the moon. An airline announced its going to make a cabin crew full of real dogs. They’re selling ketchup with popping candy. Fucking _popping candy_ , John.”

Without saying a word, John walked around to his side, a grin spreading over his face, and kissed him on the top of his head. As he was just about to turn towards him and kiss him proper, he was rewarded with a hard pinch to the top of his arm, and a gentle punch to the same spot. James glared at him.

“The fuck was that?” he asked John, who had walked away snorting with laughter, his prosthetic tapping on the tile with each step.

“A reminder!” he called back, raiding the cupboards for coffee.

Confused for a moment, and ignoring John’s words, he picked up the bottle of syrup and tried to squeeze it onto the French toast. He tried again. Then, one last time, hitting the bottom of the mostly-full bottle, he tried again, and nothing came out.

Hearing stifled giggles from John’s back, bent over the coffee press, it dawned on James. The news articles. The pinching. _The syrup_.

He twisted the lid fully open, and saw a piece of clear tape underneath the nozzle. Peeling it off as he sighed, he sent another glare John’s way.

“It’s April. Of course.” he said, feeling somewhat defeated already. Able to drizzle syrup over his breakfast now, he took a wary bite, doubtful that John would mess with his food too much, but still…

“Happy April Fool’s Day, love.” he said cheerfully. The smell of coffee filled the room as he poured. Granted, the toast was as mouth-wateringly amazing as usual, and seemed devoid of any further pranks, so James carried on eating.

“By the way...don’t you think it looks awfully muggy outside today?” John asked nonchalantly. James looked up and out of the window, to the bright midday sun spreading through a cloudless sky. He was about to confront him with his confusion, when he froze, a dreaded theory forming as he looked down the corridor towards the front door.

“If I go outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...” he said slowly, eyes locking in on John’s shoulders which appeared to be shaking with silent laughter. “...then I swear to God Almighty, I will leave you.”

His shoulders stilled, and he slowly began to turn around, rotating on his good heel. Held with both hands to his chest was a bowl full of steaming liquid, which he brought up to his lips as he held eye contact with his boyfriend, face having turned thunderous. 

James sighed heavily, finishing the last bite of his toast and pushing himself out of his chair. He stomped down the corridor towards the front of the house, in order to examine the damage. He heard John following him, stifled giggles and the mis-matched padding of his stride only a few feet behind him.

It had been done rather neatly, he decided. Every single mug in the house, from the plain-ish ones in their dinner set, to novelty mugs patterned with phrases and animals, John’s mugs printed with super heroes, holiday souvenirs, and the mug he’d bought James for Christmas, custom made with the spines of all his favourite books printed on, his beloved mug.

All of them. Arranged in one uniform line, from small to large, on their front lawn.

The street was deserted, but James shuddered to think how long they’d been out there, how many people had witnessed John’s prank. Then he felt a presence at his back, the scratch of a beard settle on his shoulder and warm breath tickle his ear.

“You are...an insufferable shit.” he exhaled, finding his frustration fast fading. He could feel John’s chest, warm and rising at his back, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I know.” he mumbled into his neck. “You love it, though.”

 


End file.
